Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Papua New Guinea and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Smog to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Graham Central Station,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bang On A Can,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Red Krayola,
X-Ray Spex,
Supertramp,
Henry Cow,
Janne Schatter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Dead Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Duran Duran,
Fela Kuti,
Zero Boys,
Minnie Riperton,
Loose Ends,
The Moleskins,
Barrington Levy,
Moss Icon,
Steve Hackett,
La Düsseldorf,
Aswad,
Danielle Patucci,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chrome,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Vogues,
Young Marble Giants,
Nik Kershaw,
Sandy B,
Suicide,
Ronnie Foster,
Nick Fraelich,
Monks,
Black Flag,
Rapeman,
Easy Going,
Lebanon Hanover,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Davy DMX,
One Last Wish,
Barbara Tucker,
Quantec,
The Knickerbockers,
The Electric Prunes,
Warren Ellis,
Fad Gadget,
Yaz,
Dual Sessions,
D'Angelo,
The Searchers,
David Bowie,
Ice-T,
Arthur Verocai,
Boredoms,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.